


So much younger than today

by shedrovemehere



Series: Help me get my feet back on the ground [1]
Category: DDT Pro-Wrestling, Professional Wrestling, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Twins, Fluff, Kayfabe Compliant, M/M, Sweden mention, kiddos, wow that tag exists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2018-12-23 14:28:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11991729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shedrovemehere/pseuds/shedrovemehere
Summary: It’s an important day for Kenny and Kota, and the kiddos are trying to be helpful to their dads. But they’re four, so how helpful could they be? They really want to try, though. (I’m bad at summaries.)





	1. I need somebody

**Author's Note:**

> I promise, no more Golden Lovers until I finish a couple other things. I _am_ capable of writing things without them in it, I PROMISE. Really. At this point I need to do it for my honor.

The closest thing Kota could compare this to was the first time they’d faced each other again. After all those years, after everything they’d been through. After all that time apart. The day before, he couldn’t eat or _think_ ; every possible emotion at once was fighting for dominance. But the next morning, he’d felt calm and clear-headed. He’d woken up thinking  _I know Kenny. If I doubted that, I’d doubt everything I know_. 

It had been enough to at least keep him from crawling out of his skin, but the more insidious fear—that he was wrong, somehow, that _everything_ had been wrong—was very much still present. _What if it was all a lie? What if it was all in my head?_ If he got in the ring across from a stranger, it would mean the truest thing he’d ever known, the most undeniable fact, had been… just… wrong. He couldn’t fathom the disorientation that would come with finding out the thing he’d most taken as a given was untrue. Might as well amend basic understanding of where the sun rises, or oxygen, or gravity. _Would have sooner doubted I knew my own damn name._

Of course, he _hadn’t_ been wrong. From the first moment they touched, it was overwhelming how familiar it all felt. As though long-dormant circuits sparked to life, to immediate, perfect working order, anywhere skin met skin. He remembered the first few minutes, how many false starts there were as they'd tried to cope with it. He’d met Kenny’s eye, and known they were both where they belonged, in so many senses. What was left then was the delicate and messy work of _fitting_ where they belonged, of existing in a space together when apart had been what kept them alive. But it wasn’t a question anymore _whether_ they should.

That was the closest thing, and it wasn’t very close. Today he’d _also_ woken up with a clear head, calmed by the knowledge that this connection he and Kenny had clumsily cobbled together over the years was the truest fact he’d ever known. He’d never planned for this day, never particularly felt he needed it, never really considered it as something in the cards. But then it just kind of... fell into his lap, as so many good things had before, and he'd warmed up to the idea of being a married man. _Not like I was going anywhere, anyway._  

Even more than that, the past few years with Kou and Hana had left his heart a smitten, sappy mess. _Having kids means your heart is always on your sleeve, constantly bruised, smacking into everything. The sweetest weakness_. His poor heart, permanently mangled by the slicing, frightening pain of loving someone (two someones) _that_ much, now sought the most sentimental comforts. _Not my worst coping mechanism, by far_. Kota knew that later today, just like he had with that match, he’d wonder why he’d ever been nervous in the first place. He _also_ knew that wouldn’t stop him from being wracked by jitters _now_. And just as that match had made clear, he knew there were a lot of unknowns, but no question as to whether it was the right course of action.

A soft knock on the door broke his daze. He hadn’t cared much about traditions, but this was one Kenny had insisted on: they couldn’t see each other all day. Kota had to admit that it built the tension for the afternoon in a pleasant, softly energetic way. But it meant he would not let himself be tempted by intruders who might cause them to catch a glimpse of each other. “Who is it?”

“Hana,” came a little voice from the other side of the door. “No one can see me.” Doubtless, Kenny had told her that he and Kota could not see each other under any circumstance, and she had gravely taken up the mantle of enforcement.

“Are you certain you weren’t followed?” Kota said in his best movie-criminal voice, smiling to himself at how serious she'd sounded. “Come in, Hana-chan.” Hana opened the door as narrowly as possible to slither in, which was difficult with all the tulle in her dress. They were surprised when she’d chosen it; she wasn’t really into fancy or itchy clothing. But when she’d seen the big floor-length skirt on this dress, she said, she realized that she could be a cupcake queen, and eat every type of cupcake she wanted. (Small cakes and strawberries were also in her jurisdiction, by royal decree.) _Definitely my daughter… Wait. Oh, fuck_. “You’re in your dress already? What time is it?” Kota knew he was the sort of person who’d be late to his own wedding, and now realized he had no idea how long he’d been sitting on the end of the bed in his boxer briefs and socks, lost in thought.

“It’s 11:30.” How she knew that, he didn’t know, but the light outside seemed to agree; he still had a few hours. “I just put it on because I’m going to wear it later.” _Can’t argue with that logic_. She made her way over to the bed and slapped her little hands down onto his thigh, saying “Papa” at the moment she hit him. _Kou’s the good cop, she’s the bad cop_.

“Hana,” he said, mimicking her tone and slapping his hands down on either side of hers.

“Papa, Kou and I decided to help you and Daddy.”

Kota raised his eyebrows, knowing that four-year-olds have vastly different definitions of “help” than adults. “That’s thoughtful of you, thank you.” Whatever the outcome, he at least wanted to encourage the impulse to help. “But aren’t you supposed to be with bachan?”

“I told her I was helping you,” she said, as though she’d actually just _informed_ Kota’s mother that she and Kou would be helping. She almost definitely had done just that, and his mother had almost definitely encouraged it. _She always said she’d get her revenge. Or maybe she figured I needed this more than I needed quiet. Either way, one point for bachan_. Now Hana spun around in circles, watching her fluffy skirt expand around her and swoop satisfyingly as she moved. Kota knew if (or more likely when) Hana _actually_ became a nuisance, she’d get whisked away, but for now her spitfire rambunctiousness let him imagine her as a tiny avatar of all the inexplicable nervous energy tightening his chest. He’d have thought, of the two helpers, that Kou’s quiet sweetness would have been the more welcome, but it was strangely soothing to watch Hana enjoy her cupcake dress so fully.

Hana stopped fairly abruptly, and made a flamboyant show of staggering around dizzily, eyes crossing and arms waving. She made an undulating _whoaaaa_ noise and finally, dramatically, fell to the floor, landing on her butt with an exaggerated _oof_. _Definitely Kenny’s daughter, too_. She looked up at Kota, who still sat on the edge of the bed, frozen in unwarranted anxiety he was trying desperately to hide from her. “Oh! I forgot to help you!” Hana looked flustered at her memory lapse.

Before Kota could say anything, Hana got to her feet and instructed him to lay back on the bed. He laid on his back, on top of the comforter, bracing himself for whatever she was going to do—likely attempt to tickle him, or practice her elbow drops. It was that unique kind of mistrustful trust that parents allow their children; the desire to be supportive outweighing the desire to remain un-annoyed or uninjured.

“Okay. I’m here. What now?” He steeled himself for whatever “help” meant to his daughter.

She didn’t say anything, instead he heard the swish of her many-layered dress as she scrambled onto the bed. Kota scrunched his face in anticipation of getting poked or sat on, but instead he felt his daughter lay her head softly on his shoulder. Kou was definitely the snuggle champ of the twins; sometimes he’d be content sitting on Kota’s lap for an hour or more, just being close and safe and sleepy. Hana’s affection almost never came in the form of hugs or snuggles, yet here she was, sidled up next to him as close as she could get, her little hand laid on his chest.

Kota kissed the top of her head. “Are you okay, Hana-chan-a?” He’d only seen her like this when she was getting sick.

“Of _course,_ ” was the reply; vaguely annoyed by his stupid question. She paused for a long moment, then lifted her head to study Kota’s face. He met her heartbreakingly earnest gaze. “Don’t be scared, Papa.” She nuzzled her head back under his chin, and lifted one hand to pet his hair. “This is how you help me when I’m scared.” It was true: when Hana would have nightmares and wake up in sobbing terror, he’d often have her lay on her back and breathe while he stroked her hair and wrapped an arm around her to let her know she was safe.

Kota felt his eyes welling with tears; he hadn’t said anything about being scared or anxious, and evidently he didn’t have to. He squeezed Hana to him and kissed the top of her head again and again, a few errant tears falling into her tangly, shiny-smooth hair. “No one in the whole world could have been more helpful,” he told her as she clumsily played with his hair, and he meant it. If it hadn’t been the day he was marrying his best friend, nothing, _nothing_ could have made him want to leave _right here_.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Kenny had once thought the best sound in the world was Kota’s ridiculous braying laughter. And it was, for a long time, but now he _knew_ the best sound was actually little giggles so fierce they contain helpless gasps for breath, and become contagious. He’d also thought that he would never be able to choose favorites between his children, but that had only been true in the most macro sense. It was true, of course, that he could never choose a favorite _child_ , but his favorite to playfully wrestle with was Kouichi, and his favorite to _run sooo fast_ with was Hana. Hana had the cutest obviously-bullshit excuses by a mile. And Kou _definitely_ had Kenny's favorite giggle. So in fact, the best sound in the world was Kou laughing, and Kenny made it happen anytime he had an opportunity, even now, when he _really really_ needed to be writing his vows. He told himself he was meditating on it, but really he was just letting himself be awash in the cascades of giggles that resulted from dramatically-but-softly Michinoku-driver-ing Kou onto the bed. That felt important too, though Kenny knew that it was far more important for _him_ than it was for his son; Kou’s laughter felt warm and nourishing and _real_. And Kenny needed that, just now.

In some ways, Kenny never would have thought today would come. In others, when he was most honest with himself, he’d been angling for today in one form or another since he’d seen that first video of Kota. Between then and now, they’d become who they dreamed of being; first together, then apart, and now together again. Here was yet another beautiful dream they’d stumbled into accidentally while trying to make each other laugh.

......

_“A long time ago, in an interview, I said our ultimate goal was marriage. I don’t know what possessed me that day.”_

_“You never told me that! When were you going to tell me you had feelings for me?”_

_“I was trying to find a way to tell you,” Kenny spoke softly to the top of Kota’s head as he rested on Kenny’s chest, “but I was worried you wouldn’t feel the same.”_

_“All this time we’ve been raising children, building a life, annoying the shit out of each other, fucking, and working to keep our careers compatible, and you had a hidden agenda?” Kota shook his head without taking it off Kenny’s chest, tangling his hair against Kenny’s skin. “You tricked me, Kenny-tan.”_

_Kenny squeezed Kota’s shoulders. “Ha! You can’t escape! You now have no choice but to marry me.” He caught himself a split second too late and was suddenly very panicked, knowing how Kota responded to anything that sounded even a little like a dare. Shit. What do I do when I accidentally backed into kind of proposing?_

_Kota was silent for a moment, then craned his neck up a little so he could plant a kiss on Kenny’s jaw. “Okay,” he said, laying his head on Kenny’s shoulder. “I’ll do it.” He slipped his arms around Kenny’s neck._

_Kenny almost started apologizing for taking the joke too far, saying he hadn’t meant it. Maybe Kota was too asleep to know what he was saying. Maybe he was calling Kenny’s bluff. But even with all they trolled each other, he didn’t think Kota would joke about something like that. “I wasn’t—“_

_“I know you weren’t.”_

_“But… you would? You want to?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Okay.”_

......

Every important thing about their lives together had been like that. The decision to adopt the kids, even, was made in the back of a cab. They’d been talking about it in some form or another for months and years, knowing they wanted to do it someday, but the _okay, now, someday is here_ call was made at the end of a conversation that hadn’t even really been about that.

That’s just how things went, with them, and it was part of what had torn them apart before: the fear that all those coincidences and happy accidents could be as easily undone as done; that if anything had to happen deliberately, maybe it wouldn't. He’d eventually learned to embrace it, _it was destiny_ , he thought, although that was far too cheesy to ever say out loud. But on a day with the gravity that today had, he couldn’t help but let that familiar worry gnaw at him. _It all happened so easily, could it be undone as easily?_ That’s why he was so focused, right now, on something he knew could not be undone: the boundless love his kids inspired. They’d never know how much strength that gave him. The uncontrollable giggles as Kenny let Kou get the pin—“always hook the leg, Kou, remember?”—didn’t hurt, either.

Kenny paused to let Kou catch his breath and slowly wind down the giggly aftershocks. “So what did you come in here for, now?” Kou had been about to tell him when Kenny had scooped him up in a hug, then thrown him onto his shoulders, sounding even more villainous than usual with his “you can’t escape!” Things had gone silly from there.

Kou put a hand to his little red face, still panting. “I came to help you, Daddy. Hana and I decided to help.”

Kenny repeated the word “help” in his mind with sarcastic air quotes, then chuckled at the twins’ executive decision making. “Where’s Hana-chan, then?” Kenny braced himself for what might be _a lot_ of “help.”

“Hana’s with Papa. Helping him.”

Kenny couldn’t help a grateful smirk at the revelation that he’d apparently been assigned the more helpful of the two. Hana was many, many incredible things, but she was both too young and too fiercely self-directed to be truly helpful, most of the time. As much as that fierceness took Kenny's breath away, her “help” was usually a wash at best. Kou, though, surprised him sometimes. “Okay, well…” he searched for something Kou could do. “Would you like to help me pick out my tie?” Kou’s eyes lit up; he seemed to know that he was about to make a decision of great gravity.

“Daddy, this is important. You’re going to get a lot of pictures taken of you today. It has to be a special one so people will know today is special.” Kou said that last bit with as much drama as his tiny voice could muster.

Kenny laughed; _I think they’ll probably know_. He didn’t know if he had any _special_ ties, but he appreciated his son’s understanding of clothing-based symbolism. _Definitely my kid_. Kenny went to the closet and got a few ties that he’d been considering, plus one that was shaped like a fish, just to make Kou laugh again.

Instead, his son shot him an icy, disappointed glare. “Daddy. You can’t be serious.”

“I try not to be.” Kou still didn’t laugh, he just picked up the fish tie, threw it aside in disgust, and turned his attention to the other ties. _Also Kota’s kid_.

Kou sat silently for several moments, in deep contemplation. Finally, he made his choice: a black tweed tie with flecks of silver, gold, white, and blue. “Because it matches what you and Papa wear at work.”

They had recently made the choice to very selectively start showing the kids what they did for a living. They needed to introduce the topic sensitively, so they'd started with photos of them at the beginning of their last match against each other. Then they went back to some of their older comedy matches, which had the added bonus of showing them working together as a team. The more brutal stuff would come when they knew the kids could handle seeing them get hurt. _I’m in no rush at all for them to understand violence_. Kenny was impressed and touched that Kou had remembered that detail. “Very good point, Kouichi. You helped!” Kou beamed with pride. “All I have left to do is put my suit on, and we’ll put on yours too, but we have a few hours, still, until we have to be ready.” 

“I still want to help.”

Kenny smiled, and inwardly fretted about how he was going to entertain his son for the next few hours, when even grandparents had clearly been insufficient companions. “There’s not much to do, besides wait. What do you think you’d like to help with?” _Worth a shot._

Kou, who at four was truly the oldest soul Kenny knew, looked sheepishly away and said, “maybe I can just talk to you so it’s not as hard to wait.”

His son said things nearly every day that could bring Kenny to the verge of loving tears, but it never got any easier to bear. Not to mention, he had already been a little teary because of the tie thing. Trying to mask the emotion in his voice, he breathed deeply and said, “that _would_ be very helpful, you’re right. Thank you.” When his son had showed up to “help," _actual_ help had not been high on the list of what Kenny thought he’d get. But here it was. “What do you think we should talk about?”

“Papa.” Kou answered decisively, and with no hesitation.  

 _This fuckin’ kid_. Kenny realized Kou was _very_ correct; he still had vows to write, he still had to find words to express some tiny, paltry fraction of what this day meant to him. “Ah, one of my favorite topics!” Kou giggled, and Kenny grabbed a pen and the pad of paper he’d been futilely scribbling on earlier. “So. _Kouichi-san._ ” More giggles. “What do _you_ think is great about Papa?"


	2. Not just anybody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! This was a one-off and then this second chapter just came to me whole cloth. So... you're welcome??? More helping and more unbearably cheesy fluff.

Kota’s phone buzzed as he paced, trying not to pace, but pacing. 

_Can you come help me?_

_\- Help you or **help** you?_

_Actual help. **Help** me later._

_\- Okay good, I already have my suit on anyway and was about to have a crisis about wrinkling it._

_\- I heard you had a helper Kouichi? Helper Hanachana was surprisingly helpful._

_Haha. Is she getting sick?_

_\- That’s what I said!_

_And yes, Kou was helpful. He chose my tie._

_But this is beyond even Kou’s abilities._

_\- Sounds serious. At least someone with good taste helped with the tie. Haha. Okay, be there in a sec._

_\- Wait, what about the thing?_

_We only have an hour left anyway. I already miss you so that’s probably enough, right?_

_\- You’re so sappy. (I miss you too.)_

Kota wasn’t worried, not exactly, but he did hurry down the hall, carefully, in stocking feet.  _Not_ worried, but he _was_ intrigued as to what could be so important that Kenny would be willing to wave away the tradition of not seeing one another when it had been something he’d previously insisted on. _Oh well_. Kota had been somewhat cloistered in the smaller guest room and was getting a little antsy, anyway. He knocked, although he couldn’t really say why he thought that was necessary. Nerves. _Why am I so fucking nervous?_

“Come in.” Kenny sounded a little puzzled, but also… _nervous too. Huh._

Kota slowly opened the door, heart pounding and head scolding heart for being so silly. “Are you okay?” He closed the door behind him, and Kenny stood there, already in his new dark gray suit that he’d actually gotten tailored to fit him, shirt tucked in, tie on, even appropriate socks. _This must be truly special if he’s not wearing white ankle-length gym socks_. That was a thing Kenny did, which Kota normally excused because it wasn’t worth the effort to explain again that a well-tailored suit would show your socks when you sit. Kenny hadn’t really had the problem of a well-tailored suit before, and Kota had no real rebuttal for the argument that white gym socks were more comfortable. Given Kenny’s fashion prowess, Kota had expected some kind of wardrobe angst, and seeing that there didn’t seem to be any, his heart fell into his stomach, into a sudden fear that they needed to Talk about Something. “You look great.” He did. Kota was sure he'd sounded surprised, he just hoped it came across as tenderly and appreciatively as he’d meant it.

“You do too, as always, obviously.” _Uh oh_. Kenny loved compliments to almost an annoying degree, and most were followed up with questions designed to not-so-subtly extend the period of time Kota spent complimenting him. For Kenny to not needle him for more, even jokingly, was possibly a sign that something was wrong. Kenny was peering at his phone.

“Uh, thanks. I mean, I suppose we see each other in suits all the time.”

“Yeah,” Kenny looked up from his phone briefly, “I guess the tradition loses something when there’s no three-thousand-dollar dress and hours’ worth of hair and makeup.”

Kota nodded, then realized he’d been frozen to the spot he’d been on since he closed the door. He crossed the room to where Kenny was standing in front of a dresser, still looking at his phone. Kota placed a hand on Kenny’s forearm. “Hey.” Kenny looked at him in bewilderment, and Kota felt suddenly _sick_. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Oh, uh.” Kenny put his hand to his forehead and sighed. _Oh god_. “I… um, this is _so_ stupid...”

“Kenny.” Kota had maybe one shred of calm left before anxiety avalanched him in, so he used it to breathe in, then out. "I am going to throw up on your actually-well-fitting suit… you’re making me nervous.”

Kenny shook his head frantically. “Oh! Oh, I’m sorry. I just… I don’t know how cufflinks work.” He sheepishly tilted his phone screen toward Kota, revealing that he’d been watching a video about how to put cufflinks on.

Kota actually clutched his chest in relief. He laughed as he let his head drop so his forehead was on Kenny’s shoulder, which seemed to snap Kenny out of whatever daze he’d been in. Kenny kissed the top of Kota’s head and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“Oh my god, Kota. So dramatic! What did you think it was gonna be?”

“ _I’m_ dramatic?” He affected a scoff, for emphasis. “...I don’t know what I thought, okay? I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”

“Did you think I was going to call it off or something?” Kenny sounded incredulous, almost offended.

Kota hadn’t _actually_ thought that, but sometimes when he was nervous, the anxious knot in his stomach made everything feel dire. He shrugged, not having a very good answer. “No.” He braced himself for whatever Kenny would read into that. In some of his worse moments, Kenny would sometimes say he still didn’t feel he deserved Kota’s trust, which Kota hated more than probably anything, ever. Kota’s stomach knotted further, which he hadn’t thought was even possible.

Kenny just squeezed Kota’s shoulders tighter. “Heh, I’m nervous too. I don’t know why. Not—not that I want you to be of course, not that you should be… but uh... selfishly, it makes me feel a little better to know that you are.”

 _Well, that could have gone a lot worse_. “Yeah. Hana took one look at me and was like, ‘wow can you just chill, Papa?’ She was pretty sweet though.”  _Okay, understatement, I was very much crying, a lot, but… it’s today._

Kenny laughed at that. “She laid down the law. I’m jealous; I’ll never be able put you in line like that.” Kota made the suggestive eyebrow gesture, which Kenny mostly ignored, except a little elbow nudge. “Kou picked this tie for me because it matches our ring gear. I was going to wear the fish one, of course…”

Kota smacked a kiss on Kenny's cheek. “I know you're joking, but I don't _feel_ you're joking." He looked at the pile of unchosen tie candidates on the bed. "You needed the help.” Kenny looked chagrined but didn’t argue. “Speaking of, how could watching a video about cufflinks still leave you with unanswered questions? Couldn’t you have asked your dad? Or… anyone?”

“Well, yeah, probably. But it kinda seemed like a tossup... who’d give me the most shit about it.” Now he pulled Kota into his arms for a real hug. “Plus… mostly… I just wanted to see you, because I was nervous,” he said, more softly, to Kota’s shoulder.

Kota squeezed him tighter, and nuzzled his face into the crook of Kenny’s neck. “I love you.” It was meant in appreciation, chastisement, and elation all at once.

“I love you too.” He exhaled at length, and so did Kota; it felt like they amplified each other’s strength. What little of it there was, anyway. Kenny tangled a hand in Kota’s hair. “We’re unstoppable, you know?”

Kota leaned into Kenny’s hand. “Ha. Alone we’re no match for cufflinks or cribs—” Kenny had once heroically assembled two IKEA cribs within an hour after coming home to monster children and Kota utterly defeated by Swedish modular furniture, nearly in tears— “but together… You’re right.” He pulled away and reached for Kenny’s hand, which happened to contain cufflinks. He took them, then gently took Kenny’s wrist, laughing softly. “I’m not making fun of you, I just honestly don’t know how this could be confusing.” He buttoned one into place, then paused to bring his hand softly to the side of Kenny’s face.

Actually making eye contact now, actually fully breathing in where they were, and why, and how they got there, his anxiety finally shifted to excitement. For all Kenny used to worry that he had nothing to offer Kota, there was no other calm in the world like the one Kota got from that look in his eyes. The one that had always, from day one, said _don’t worry, we’re a team_. It had initially erased language barriers, and later made some of the worst and most terrifying situations bearable; Kota knew that look alone had saved him more than a few times. There had been other times when both of them had been unable, felt unworthy, to have that assurance, and couldn’t look each other in the eyes. Now, today was a promise that no matter how unworthy, angry, sad, annoyed, betrayed, whatever they felt, they’d never back down from that gaze again. Kota took Kenny’s other wrist, and pinned the cufflink into place.

“You didn’t have to do it for me.” Even as he said that, Kenny looked at his wrists gratefully, as though Kota had just performed a dark magic. “You’re not teaching me to fish, Ibutan. How will I ever learn?”

Kota took the matching tie bar off the dresser, knowing that if cufflinks were a mystery, a tie bar would be advanced sorcery. Kenny didn’t argue. “For one thing,” Kota straightened Kenny’s tie, which, he had to admit, their son chose well, “do you honestly think you’re ever going to wear a shirt like this again? I don’t.” Kenny nodded and laughed. “For another thing,” Kota finished fastening the tie bar and patted it in a gesture of finality. “You’ll always have me here.” 


End file.
